BTVS: Roleplaying at it's finest
by Bumbling Mage's Apprentice
Summary: A nerd get's pulled across dimensions to sunnydale. Will his arrival change things here? Will he stay himself? Usage of DND 3.5e rules and classes. Let's see what happens when role-playing forces you INTO your role. M-rated for the usual stuff. Violence, language and other nasty stuff.
1. Assume your role, Player!

Do you know what sucks the most about waking up undead? Being stuck in a casket.

Oh yeah, it's not nearly as much fun as they portray in the movies, You're still breathing for one. Or, well, breathing on reflex, but ... you know what I mean. For another thing, being stuck in a coffin means you can't see where you are in the world. Hell, I could still be at the funeral home, or at my burial, in broad sunlight. Considering the fact that I'm assuming that I'm a vampire or some other sort of corporeal undead, this would be very bad for my continued existence amongst the living.

Welp, only one way to find out where I am.

And that's the hard way.

I reached out with my left arm in the total darkness of the coffin, feeling around until I found the lid. Not long after I lifted my arm, my fingers scraped velvet covered wood.

Okay, a bit more posh then I would've expected normally, I planted my hand on the roof and began to slowly lift up. The lid lifted a little before being stopped by something. Perhaps a latch? I pushed a bit harder and heard something snap before the lid shot off like a rocket. Why in the hell would a coffin have such a crappy latch?

Probabaly because they don't expect the occupant to want to get out. Damn that was a stupid moment for me. What if someone comes by later and finds the broken latch on an empty coffin? I would prefer not starting a vampire hunt this early in my life.

Damn number 2, I also should've considered if someone else was around to hear me push my way out. The lid kind of flew off and smashed against a wall across from me. Falling with a crash on top of a nearby coffin.

Well, so much for being subtle.

I heard the thunder of feet approaching, the door of the room I was in opened... and I was subsequently blinded. The far-too bright flourescant lights flared to life above me. My eyes exploded in pain as little white stars obscured my vision.

"WHAT THE HELL IS... oh my god..." I heard someone say off to the side when they saw me writhing in pain in my coffin. About this point I found my voice.

"Errgh, the hell is your problem? You go around blinding people for kicks?" I said indignantly, rubbing fiercely at my tightly shut eyes as I tried to clear them of dancing stars.

"But... I... I don't understand. You're dead?" The voice said. I would assume from the tone and pitch, the speaker is female. But I won't be able to tell until my eyes clear out.

"Tell me something I don't know. Could you help me out of this thing. I promise I won't eat you or anything." I said, my vision still completely gone. It was at this point that I began to struggle my way out of the coffin, trying to ignore how acute my senses seem to have become. I could hear the girl's heart thudding away in her chest, and she was across the room from me. I hadn't tried my nose yet, but I could taste the cloyingly sweet smell of cleaner and disinfectant on my tongue. Never a good thing.

I managed to get my feet out of the coffin and onto the floor. Standing was still an iffy concept. Seeing as I was bracing myself against the coffin with theoretically weak arms. My eyes were starting to clear out to where I could get vague shapes and shadows. Seeing as my eyes were still somewhat out of commission, I decided to try out my last sense. I inhaled through my nose...

Sweet...

Merciful...

Cthulhu...

My sense of smell was god-like. I could smell everything in this room. Literally, everything.

The corpses in the other coffins smelled of disinfectant and pressed cloth. With only a hint of decay coming from some of the older corpses. Wonders of modern corpse preservation at work. The coffins smelled of sweet scented woods, of cinnamon and myrrh. And the woman who'd come to investigate my awakening... Oh she was a different story altogether.

With a single whiff, I was able to tell everything about what she'd been doing today. The mix of scents coming from around her mouth alone was... interesting. She smelt of perfume, lipstick, Mcdonald's, and female arousal all at the same time. For sake of time constraints, I won't go into details about the thousand and one other things my new sniffer detected. The important bits were that,

A. She was fucking terrified,

B. I could smell her blood through her skin.

Come to think of it, that was a weird trait, one shouldn't be able to smell another person's blood unless it was being spilled(or that person was on her period). Guess it made it easier to hunt when you could smell both emotion and blood coming from your prey. Interesting trait.

The blood scent was also... different from what I expected. Sure it smelled like... well, like blood. But the scent was pretty damn appetizing, and it made my mouth water like the smell of Beef stew or Bacon would. I wonder if...

NO.

Stop what you are doing.

No eating random people.

"Sorry, but I'm afraid I'm going to have to skip out on you here. I'm starving and have no desire to start racking up a body count." I said as I looked for an exit. There didn't appear to be one, besides the doorway that the woman occupied.

"I can see that." The woman, who I'm assuming is a mortician, said as she slowly began to back away.

"That I'm hungry or that I don't want to start murdering."

"You're hungry, the fangs gave it away."

I started to feel around in my mouth at that. Sure enough, my front canines had transformed into fully fledged fangs a la Dracula. They were wicked sharp, as my finger told me when I scraped it against a fang. Huh. So that's a thing. Guess I'm a vampire.

Wow, that sucks.

"Well before I go miss, where am I?" I asked the still retreating woman.

"Sunnydale, California." She said before fleeing to a room at the end of the hall. My vision fully returned in time to see her slam the door.

Son of a Shoggoth. I'm in Buffy the Vampire Slayer.

* * *

So, I've established I'm in one of Joss Whedon's works. Whether it's just Buffy or more than that is completely up for debate.

The other thing is... hunting sucks.

I've never gone properly hunting before, but I figured it wouldn't be that difficult. After all, you're just running down some stupid animal right?

Wrong. Oh so very wrong.

I spent the first three hours of my new life running down a deer that had been near the funeral home I'd popped out of. Finally taking the damned bastard with hooves down with a lucky jump.

I have to admit, I may be some weird mix of dead and living, but I still got tired.

But I'm getting off track, after all, I've got a lovely six-point buck pinned under me and I am starving. My fangs had already been out when I'd smelled the buck, so I lowered my open jaws to the desperately struggling animal beneath me... and... Got a mouthful of fur.

'_note to self, shave all prospective prey before biting.' _I thought as I spat out a chunk of summer coat. The deer was going ballistic by this point, making weird braying noises in abject terror as I turned back to the now open skin of it's throat. I bit down again, this time striking blood.

Oh god,it's like getting a water fountain that sprays hot chocolate down your throat. Deer blood wasn't quite as good smelling as human blood was, but it certainly got the job done. I drank greedily of the red necter provided by arterial spray until the deer stopped struggling.

It was about that point I noticed my observer. And nearly got staked for my troubles.

A tall, dark haired man who greatly resembled a certain FBI agent on one of my favorite crime shows buried a stake roughly where my heart would've been if I'd stayed attached to the deer. Fortunately, my survival instincts had come alive seconds before. Screaming "GET OUT OF THERE YOU STUPID FLEDGLING!". Naturally, being the coward I am, I GTFO'd and tore a great rent in the deer's throat as I didn't have the 2.5 seconds it would take to disengage from my meal. I crossed the small clearing I'd been feeding in and was halfway up a tree before the deer I'd been holding had hit the ground, leaving the ensouled vampire in the dust. He looked rather... shocked to see me in a not-dusted state when he pulled his stake out of the dirt.

"What the hell are you?" He asked as he looked up to my perch in what I now realized was a pine tree.

"A Vampire? What else would I be?" I said even as I moved to put the tree between me and Sir Stakes-a-lot.

"Then where're the forehead ridges? You've got your fangs out but your eyes aren't yellow and you don't have the forehead ridges." Angel said as he glared up at my tree with broodiness and anger aplenty.

"I... guess I'm special? Look, you're a vampire too, can we not do this whole staking thing? Hell, you can have the rest of that deer if you want. " I said even as I looked for a convenient nearby tree or exit route. I did not want to fight a main character, not now at least. There was a birch within jumping distance, a pile of bushes if I was feeling lucky. I stole a look back at the brooding vampire, who was more looking off in the distance in thought rather than at me.

Yeah, I'm out.

I lept from my tree to the nearest one, then jumped from there to the ground. A minute passed and I was dust on the horizon.

* * *

Escaping the undead slaying vampire was not fun. The less that could be said off what I had to do to throw him off my trail. The better.

Anyway, I found myself in the basement of some long forgotten church. Judging by the way Angel stopped and stood dumbfounded at the property line the church grounds were still hallowed. Frankly I was rather queasy myself standing on holy ground. But it would make a good spot to hide until I can claim a vampire nest for my own use.

The problem here is that I'm not a full vampire. I'd be burning alive if I were. Hell, I wouldn't have made it through the door without smoke curling off of me.

_"For Shame, hero, I would've thought you'd had figured it out by now."_ A quiet, silky voice whispered in the back of my head.

And now I'm hearing voices in my head... Great...

_"Not without reason hero. Turn around."_ the mystery voice said. I did as I was told... and nearly pissed myself.

Standing before me was an Ithilid. Now for those of you who don't know what Ithilids are. Picture a tall being with mauve skin stretched over a vaguely humanoid skeleton. Kinda creepy right? That's the normal stuff, here's where shit gets freaky. It's hands are skeletal claws with three fingers and a thumb, and it's head is basically an octopus mounted on a neck. Four tentacles ring a mouth of nightmarish teeth and cold, lifeless gold eyes staring at you? Tell me you wouldn't be disturbed by that?

_"Greetings. I am Mystivilliath. Exalted servant of the Heavens. I am here to start you on your path, where you go from there... that's up to you." _ The Ithilid said as (he... she... it? I'm gonna go with It for now) settled down on a stone coffin directly behind itself. Apparently awaiting something.

"So... out of curiosity, what do you mean by path? And why the hell is a denizen of the higher planes wasting their time on little old me? Hell, why is an Ithilid a champion of the Great and Good?" I started asking as my general confusion over the past few hours overwhelmed both manners and common sense. Thankfully, the Ithilid didn't take offense at my rather insulting question. At least not visibly, considering the fact that the octopi-headed monstrosities kept their emotions perfectly internalized doesn't help when trying to gauge someone's emotional state.

_"By path, I mean character class. Believe it or not, the multiverse mostly runs off of the same rules as Dungeons and Dragons. You're one of what we call potentials, those who have the potential to take up a character class. While anyone can train into becoming a class, your heritage allows you to spontaneously assume a class so long as the situation is right. Like now for instance . The ratio of potential to baseline human is about one in seven. To answer your second question, I've been dispatched alongside a number of friends and colleagues to give a fairly large number of new adventurers their introduction to the multiverse. This same conversation is occurring between others like ourselves throughout every possible reality. And to answer your last question, I come from a realm where my kind replaced the beings known as elves in most all aspects."_

Okay then. This is definitely happening...

"So what paths are available to me?"

_"All of them, any of them. You will change to better adhere to whichever class you select."_

"That's...not...disturbing...at...all?" I spoke haltingly as the unfortunate implications behind that surfaced in the back of my mind

_"I'm glad you feel that way. Most find the change to be quite disturbing."_

"Well, while I have your ear so-to-speak. Could you confirm something for me." I asked tentatively, the Ithilid nodded. "What am I?".

_"A human with vampiric blood. You are essentially a vampire without most of the normal drawbacks of being undead. You still need to feed on blood, but considering all the benefits you now have because of it, I'm sure you'll come to thank the angels for it later."_

"Well okay, might as well rewrite myself further." I muttered with a hint of anger. Underneath my mostly-calm exterior I was seething at the violation of my body and soul. Oh I understood the reasoning behind it, but it still pissed me off that the Powers That Be wouldn't at least give me a choice in the matter. Then I thought better of it, like hell they wouldn't fuck with someone's life for they're own purposes.

"Actually hold on. Back up. How does this work exactly? The current setting makes my existence an impossibility. Vampires being sterile and all. How do I exist?" I asked in confusion as the thought struck me.

_"All will be explained after the path has been chosen."_

Okay, add an unhelpful Ithilid to the list of shit I'm dealing with today.

"Fine. I choose the path of shadows and silence. Make me a Ninja." I spat, wanting this whole encounter to be over. Mystivilliath waved a claw in a jedi-esque movement. Causing a character sheet to appear before me. Showing... well... me. My stats we're understandable for my current status. Supernatural dexterity and better then average wisdom. Which explained my enhanced senses. My strength, constitution, and intelligence we're better then average, though that's not unexpected. My charisma was... average.

My AC was surprisingly good(Thank you, class features) and my skills we're all over the place. With various movement skills already having skill ranks in them. Sense motive was also really good. I wonder why? It isn't something I wouldn't normally have put points into... Something to figure out later. Feat selection was all about movement or skill boosts. Run, Dash, Fleet of Foot, Tactile trapsmith and Alertness. My flaws were Sunblind, Hunted: NID and Hunted: Knights of the Moon. Damn, two Hunted flaws? What the hell is in my backstory? I mean, sunblind makes sense, but two Hunted flaws?

I looked up from the character sheet to see that the Ithilid had disappeared. Considering how powerful Ithilids are? It probably plane shifted away once I'd made my choice. There was still the matter of gear to go over. I have a hundred gold to spend. Let's see...

So after a half hour of dithering about the uses of various pieces of equipment I could get. I decided on

Weapons

-Kukri

-Punch Dagger

-20 shuriken

Clothing

-Artisan's clothing (Workboots(modified with sheath for punch dagger in left boot), cargo pants, grey muscle shirt)

\- Cloak(Black hoody (modified with hidden pockets and sheath for shuriken and kukri)

Miscellaneous

-Backpack (Messanger bag)

-Parchments (Notebooks)

-Quill and Ink (Pens and mechanical pencils)

-Rope (Duct tape)

-Healer's kit (Minor medkit, drug store brand)

It wasn't much, but since the rest of the gold got turned into american dollars after I'd entered my gear selections. Giving me some spending money.

The final thing left to cover was backstory. The section, along with allies, enemies, and character traits/flaws/ description, already appeared to be filled in, I leaned forward to read what was there.

And in that moment, Wayne ****** died.

Subject 43 "Cain" was born.

* * *

Memory came in flashes. Bursts of identification to match up with the person I am.

But what do I remember?

Am I human?

Yes... wait no. No, I can't be human. THEY made sure of it.

Who's they?

More Flashes. Men in black suits,sunglasses, sneers. Always a different man, same sneer. Thought I wasn't worth a mind, a heart.

A soul.

Tried to beat it out of me. Make me a sword in their hand.

They grabbed the wrong end.

I cut them.

Made them bleed.

But who am I? If I'm not human, then what?

Something human, but not.

Wait no. I am human.

Aren't I?

YES. I am Human! I have a mother, father, family, friends even!

But wait, who is that black haired woman? Why is she there? I don't have a mother. She died in THAT PLACE.

Bringing me into the world.

Mistake.

Monster.

NO. I am not a monster. I CANT CHANGE HOW I WAS BORN.

Father saved me.

But didn't father have a beard? Wasn't he tall? With a big belly and sun burned face?

No. Father was short, thin, and olive skinned.

Still remember him finding me in THAT PLACE.

Standing over the Suit man, sweet crimson dripping from my lips.

Breaking down into tears after I realized what I'd done.

Tears staining black cloth. Foreign words comfort me as I'm taken from THAT PLACE.

Growing up.

Big place, airy and light streaming in from many windows.

Sunlight hurt.

But I got stronger.

Met students, who learned to fight in Father's Dojo.

Made friends. People I could match wits and weapons with.

Fell in love.

Learned that I'm different in other ways.

Got hurt.

But I got up this time. Shrugged off the pain like I was learned from father.

Learned more. How to wield weapons, knives, throwing stars.

Learned WHY to fight alongside HOW.

Fought real monsters alongside Father.

Met the Moon Knights.

Warriors of the night.

Defenders of the weak.

Many welcome me. Say I'm a good fighter.

Others spit at me, say I'm no better then the monsters they fight.

I ignore them.

Then... THEY find me.

THEY kill father.

Say I'm going back to THAT PLACE.

I slay them all with blade and fang, dodging bullets like father taught me too.

Friends find me cradling father, weeping.

They take me away from Father's Dojo.

To this Place.

I Know who I am.

* * *

Cain shook his head, cursing and rubbing at the sore spot on his skull. Cursing himself for leaving his weapons at home. His stupid choice to hunt unarmed. A metallic creak from outside made itself known and Cain remembered he was still in danger. He left his self loathing behind as he slipped out of the crypt he'd taken shelter in and melded with the shadows. Lowering himself into the deepest pool of shadow he could find as an old muttering priest stepped away from the gate he'd locked for the night and turned to head back into his church. Another poor choice for Cain, he hadn't checked to see if the church grounds had actually been abandoned before he took shelter in a crypt. Cain took it as a favor from whichever god was watching over him tonight and climbed on top of the crypt who's shadow he'd hidden in. The pissy vampire from earlier was still waiting for him, though he'd moved to the shadowy alley across the street. No doubt still pondering the mystery that he'd nearly staked.

Cain stretched, feeling a few kinks in his spine straighten out in a series of bone shattering pops. Eyeing a convenient ledge on the building across from his perch. He did a quick mental check before throwing himself forward, off the crypt and towards the wall across from him. As he passed over the wrought Iron gate he felt the unsettling holy aura leave his being and realized that he would come two inches short of his envisioned finger holds.

_'Well shit.'_ He thought as he connected with the wall in a nose-bloodying crash. '_Today is not going well at all.'_


	2. Meeting the party, scouting, Giles

Blood spattered the brick of the building Cain clung to as Cain's nose violently protested having to share space with so much masonry. He got the distinct feeling that this would not be the first time he lost blood in this city. But, that's life. Cain's arms began working to pull his body up the bricks as his feet scrabbled for purchase against the man made structure. One toehold later and Cain propelled himself up the building. Grabbing the ledge of a bricked up window as he came to the height of his jump and hauling himself up onto the thin stone outcropping. Cain took a moment to attend to his bloodied nose. The scent of blood (not exactly something he could avoid at this point) made his fangs slid out of his gums and his stomach give a painful twinge of hunger.

"Oh for fuck's sake. I ate an hour ago!" Cain muttered as he pulled a gauze packet from the med kit that lived in his cargo pants and began to dab at every damp spot and drop of liquid he could feel while resisting the urge to lick the blood from the pad. Nose clean for the moment. Cain took a quick look around.

Pissy Vampire skulking in a dark alley? Check.

Sleepy priest in the church? Check.

Tired Dhampir on a ledge? Check.

Time for this sleepy half-dead boy to head on home.

Cain sighted down his next jump point, a diagonal drop onto a defunct machine shop and leapt. Landing as silently as a cat on the old tin roof. Cain was homeward bound.

* * *

"You're late." came the expected statement. 'Saint' Joan Arcellius, the formally trained Knight and head of this little band of renegades, was not amused.

"It was unavoidable." Cain said, knowing it was not a good excuse. Joan glared at him through her helmet slit before shaking her head and sighing like a world weary mother.

"At least take weapons with you next time. I'd prefer you didn't die from 'gangs on PCP'." Cain's compatriot in full plate said as she stepped aside to allow him into the dingy motel room that served as home for the time being. The small team of renegade Knights of the Moon was doing their best to stay undercover for the time being. If that meant sleeping in squalor for the time being, so be it.

The other Knights were spread throughout the room. Aria, the team's resident Paladin and Joan's girlfriend, was buffing the shine on her silvered broadsword while reading Seventeen in an attempt to better understand the modern girl. Judging by the soft shaking of her head and the small frown gracing her painted lips, she didn't like what she was seeing. She was tall and broad with short, silver hair. Her Amazonian frame packed enough muscle to give professional loggers a run for their money

Mark, the team's mage and troubleshooter was studying his spellbook, something he did **all the freaking time.** The bookish red head always had his nose buried in some arcane text or another when not patrolling or sleeping. He wouldn't appear to be very impressive to anyone of the mortal world, as he was short, thin, and covered in freckles. This was offset by his spectacular spell work and grim determination to get things done.

Finally, there was Aaron. Aaron was well... Aaron. A handsome swashbuckler with a penchant for flirting with everything with a pulse when he wasn't picking a fight. He was lithe and graceful as a dancer with a chiseled face that coud've been on Michelangelo's David had it been stone. His brilliant brown eyes and chocolate hair only accentuated his form.

"And the broody half-vamp returns!" Aaron says with a cheeky grin as he looks up from his rapier. "How're you doing stud?"

"I'd be doing better if you didn't call me that." Cain says as he strips off his hoodie and tosses it into his corner. He did this mostly because the hoodie was soaked in cold sweat, but partially because he didn't want Aaron to see the light pink blush that momentarily graced his cheeks at Aaron's compliment. He'd never hear the end of it if Aaron saw it.

"Well, get on with it Cain. What does the area look like?" Joan said even as she settled into her chair by the door.

Right, Cain had been scouting. Might as well report.

"So the most obvious vampire hunting ground would be the Bronze, which is the closest thing this three-horse town has to a night club. We want to down some lesser vamp's, that'll be the place to be." Cain said as he started to root around in his duffle bag for a clean shirt as his current one had went the way of the hoodie. " This town has a few demon bars and large parks where other creatures of the night're gonna gather. We should probably patrol those every other day. Obviously we should try to keep an eye on the cemeteries, that damn near goes without saying."

"School's gonna start in a day or two, we should probably establish a Watcher Ward on the schools here so we can minimize child casualties." Mark said from his perch on the second bed of the motel room. Surprising everyone. After all, Mark didn't say more then a few words when he was required to speak, and that was usually to bring down the arcane thunder.

"...You have that ritual?"

"Along with half a dozen others. I even managed to snag a copy of Reincarnation on our way out." Mark said as he returned to his spellbook.

"Huh, and here I was thinking that death'd be permanent when we left the order."

"So long as you don't mind being a kobold." Aria snarked.

* * *

"Mark, quick question for you. Why are we planting a Watcher ward in the school's library? Not to cast aspersions on your Arcane Abilities..." Cain asked as he surveyed the shadowed library. They'd moved the tables and cut back the carpeting in the center of the room to have space to draw the ritualistic symbols needed for the Watcher's ward.

"The leylines in this area converge to make a shadowgate. You know, like the one in Cleveland?" Mark counter-questioned as he began to trace the ritual circle on the exposed concrete of the library floor.

"Pretend I didn't take dimensional theory and thus have little to no idea where you're going with that line."

"I'm impressed you recognized the term well enough to connect it to Dimensional Theory. A shadowgate is basically a direct portal to the Shadowlands and a fount of magic. The ritual is simply easier to do here." Mark stops drawing for a moment and furrows his brow in curiosity. "Usually the Watcher's Council takes care of them. I'm honestly surprised we haven't met their representative yet." Mark said as he went back to his work and began to inscribe an upright pentagram into the circle.

"I wouldn't be surprised if they didn't have the resources for it. Aren't they just a 'one warrior and his support staff' organization?" Cain asked.

"Hardly." Someone said with a posh accent. "The Watcher's council supports numerous demon hunter groups around the world. Many of which operate on active hell-mouths. Although, that probably won't matter to you for much longer." Stepping out of the shadows is an aged British Man. While his hair is graying out and thinning, the crossbow he holds steadily in his hands does not shake with the infirmity of age.

"Any last words?"


End file.
